New Kid
Being a new kid at the school isn’t easy.
Yesterday, we got a new girl at our school. The kids were overjoyed. They welcomed her as she trembled with fear. They took her into their groups and they let her sit with them at lunch. They volunteered to show her around the school. They introduced her to other kids. It was touching. Ann, their teacher, was deeply moved.
She told us this at lunch time. She wondered aloud what it was that made these children so welcoming and sweet toward this gentle soul. And my cynical self couldn’t help but wonder, would a less beautiful child be embraced in the same way? I tend to think not. No, the group had decided when the new girl had appeared, blonde, blue-eyed, petite and symmetrical, that she was what they wanted in the IN group. She was IN from the beginning. They made a judgment right from the start that she was acceptance-worthy.
And I remember seeing new kids starting at schools while I was a student myself. The most difficult thing, I remember, wasn’t necessarily who accepted you and who wanted you in their group (there were often many clusters and cliques looking for sidekicks and followers), it was figuring out where YOU belonged. It would be nice to be able to watch quietly for a few days to figure out the hierarchy of the school, without having to commit, before you picked your posse. But instead, if you want in, you have to grab at the extended arms of welcome.
And there’s nothing more difficult than finding yourself in the WRONG GROUP. I know this because I was a nerd. I was a Problem Child (math club) and I was a band geek (we went to London, England in grade 10). And if I had had the opportunity, upon entering into a new school, to be in the cool kids group, I’d have had to say “HELL NO!” The parties and the having to wear makeup and consistently plucking my eyebrows and pretending to be on crash diets all the time and making out with boys randomly and being kind of good and kind of not-so-good at math and probably drinking alcohol when you’re under age…the whole scene seemed like a lot of work. Instead, I could safely find the kinds of people who discussed linguistic hybrids of latin french and English, who learned to play bridge in their spare time, who did dramatic Improv at birthday parties, who related everyday mysteries like cherry danishes and the perfect sub sandwich to mathematical algorithms and thermodynamics. These were people you could relax around. People who understood you.
Being a new kid at the school isn’t easy.
Yesterday, we got a new girl at our school. The kids were overjoyed. They welcomed her as she trembled with fear. They took her into their groups and they let her sit with them at lunch. They volunteered to show her around the school. They introduced her to other kids. It was touching. Ann, their teacher, was deeply moved.
She told us this at lunch time. She wondered aloud what it was that made these children so welcoming and sweet toward this gentle soul. And my cynical self couldn’t help but wonder, would a less beautiful child be embraced in the same way? I tend to think not. No, the group had decided when the new girl had appeared, blonde, blue-eyed, petite and symmetrical, that she was what they wanted in the IN group. She was IN from the beginning. They made a judgment right from the start that she was acceptance-worthy.
And I remember seeing new kids starting at schools while I was a student myself. The most difficult thing, I remember, wasn’t necessarily who accepted you and who wanted you in their group (there were often many clusters and cliques looking for sidekicks and followers), it was figuring out where YOU belonged. It would be nice to be able to watch quietly for a few days to figure out the hierarchy of the school, without having to commit, before you picked your posse. But instead, if you want in, you have to grab at the extended arms of welcome.
And there’s nothing more difficult than finding yourself in the WRONG GROUP. I know this because I was a nerd. I was a Problem Child (math club) and I was a band geek (we went to London, England in grade 10). And if I had had the opportunity, upon entering into a new school, to be in the cool kids group, I’d have had to say “HELL NO!” The parties and the having to wear makeup and consistently plucking my eyebrows and pretending to be on crash diets all the time and making out with boys randomly and being kind of good and kind of not-so-good at math and probably drinking alcohol when you’re under age…the whole scene seemed like a lot of work. Instead, I could safely find the kinds of people who discussed linguistic hybrids of latin french and English, who learned to play bridge in their spare time, who did dramatic Improv at birthday parties, who related everyday mysteries like cherry danishes and the perfect sub sandwich to mathematical algorithms and thermodynamics. These were people you could relax around. People who understood you.
I wish for every new kid to find her like-minded peers, so she can happily geek-out in platonic bliss even if she IS burdened with beauty.
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